The One You're With
by Shotzette
Summary: Lenny receives a little birthday comfort from an unexpected source...


"The One You're With"  
By Shotzette  
Rated R  
  
This is a work of fanfiction that was written for entertainment purposes only. I'm not making a dime off this and it is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by Paramount, ABC, or anyone else, living, dead,  
or imagined.  
  
"If you can't be with the one you love,  
Love the one you're with  
Stephen Stills  
  
"Happy Birthday, dear Lenny... Happy Birthday to you!" I sang out in my strong soprano as I tried not to wince at the cacophany of near barnyard sounds surrounding me. Jesus, aside from Carmine and myself, everyone else sounded little better than cats in heat.  
  
How did I wind up in Cowboy Bills at ten o'clock on a Satuday night with these nobodys? I stood back as the birthday boy valiantly tried to blow out all twenty eight candles on a lopside cake liberally frosted with robin's egg blue icing. After all, my cashmere sweater is dry clean only.  
  
One moment I was opening my front door, coming home early from a truly dreadful party. No A-listers at all! Just myself, a few low level television directors, and a handful of corn-fed teenagers straight off the turnip truck.  
  
Just like me ten years ago when I left Oklahoma.  
  
Of course I figured out in five minutes that none of the guys there were *really* hunting for the next big leading lady at that shinndig. They were merely hunting for something young and gullible.  
  
Just like I used to be.  
  
I guess I was a little more depressed than I realized. That would be the only reason I would have said yes to Shirley's last minute invitation.  
  
These Milwaukee people are so strange. They can't seem to do anything alone, even move across the country. In the three months they've lived here, I think I've learned more about them than I have any of the other previous tenants.  
  
Not that I ever got close to anyone.  
  
Well, as my eyes raked over Sonny St. Jacques out of habit, if nothing else, I usually didn't get close to anyone. He caught my eye, and gave me his ever charming, ever bright smile. I couldn't help it. I guess part of me will always feel that old tingle.  
  
I better not let Laverne catch me looking at Sonny that way. She looks like the jealous type, and I can't afford any sort of physical altercation. It wouldn't matter to her, she's not in the industry. She doesn't yet understand how your body is your instrument in this town. But she will. Like I said, they've only been here three months.  
  
I'm still trying to figure out the dynamics of this bunch. Laverne and Shirley have apparently been roommates for several years, yet they both seem to like men. Odd.  
  
The owner of this restaurant, I think his name is Mr. DeFazio, is Laverne's or Shirley's (I really don't pay attention to other women when they prattle on) father, and that Edna woman is his wife, I think. It's weird. Most people move across the country to get away from their parents, while these people just seem to follow their's.  
  
I left Mama and her horrible husband back in Oklahoma on my eighteenth birthday and never looked back. I wonder what it would be like to feel sorry for leaving her? I think it's just one of those things I'll never know.  
  
The muscular guy, Carmine, is Shirley's boyfriend. They don't seem to be exclusive. In fact, they don't seem to have much of a romantic relationship at all, since I know for a fact he's spent every night here in California on Sonny's couch. Yet, he moved here to be with her.  
  
I don't know how the other two guys fit in, the birthday boy and his greasy little friend. From the way they leer at Laverne and Shirley, I really hope they're not relatives of some sort. However, I can't figure out why they left home to come out here. They apparently had some sort of jobs back in Wisconsin, but I don't know what they think Hollywood has to offer them. They're not handsome, not talented, not rich, and worst of all, not all that ambitious. Don't they realize that they're swimming with the sharks?  
  
Well, I amended mentally, I think I know why Lenny moved to California. For the umpteenth time that night, he was nonchalantly watching Laverne cuddle with Sonny out of the corner of his eye. The poor bastard had it bad.  
  
I politely refused a piece of the nauseating looking cake from Shirley. I have to watch my calories, and I'm certainly not going to throw my diet away over something like that. "So, Lenny," I asked charitably, (after all, it *was* his birthday), "What did you wish for?"  
  
His eyes slid guiltily Laverne's way, until he caught himself. "Oh, nothin' special."  
  
What a terrible liar.  
  
*****  
  
Well, I've had worse evenings, I admitted to myself as I rounded the corner on the way back to Laurel Vista. I finally had a piece, a tiny piece mind you, of that horrible cake, and it actually tasted pretty good. I'd left Carmine and Shirley slow dancing at Cowboy Bill's around midnight. Squiggy was temporarily distracted by one of the waitresses, so I decided to make my escape while the getting was good. As I passed Sonny's apartment, I saw two silhouettes on the shade, moving in a rhythm as old as time. You've been dating her for over a month Sonny, what took you so long to make your move? You certainly weren't that hesitant when you and I were together, were you, handsome?  
  
I had started towards my door when I heard a muffled, almost gasping sound. I turned quickly and saw one of the saddest sights of my life. There, sitting beside his front door, with a beer bottle in his hand, tears in his eyes, and a party hat still on his head, was the birthday boy.  
  
"Lenny, what are you--"  
  
"Locked myself out. Again." He looked at me blearily before continuing. "Do you know if Squig's coming home anytime soon?"  
  
Unfortunately for that waitress, probably not, I figured.  
  
"Rhonda thought all of you trusting midwestern types kept spare keys under the doormat."  
  
"We don't, and as you can see, I'm the only doormat out here. I'd ask Sonny for one, y'know with him being the building manager and all, but I'm afraid of what I might interrupt," he added darkly.  
  
"They're dating," I replied as gently as I could, "why are you surprised."  
  
He merely tightened his jaw and looked at the ground.  
  
"Come here," I said, then added quickly before the poor man got the wrong impression, "Rhonda's not planning on sleeping for sometime. You can wait in Rhonda's apartment until Squiggy comes home, which should be shortly."  
  
He gave a lopsided grin before pushing himself up off the ground and following me to my door.  
  
*****  
  
"I dunno," he whined, as I poured him his second cup of coffee, "I just thought things would be different when we all moved out here." These people are a terrible influence on me, I realized as I offered him skim milk and saccharine for his coffee. I can't remember the last time I did something so...domestic.  
  
"Why, Lenny?"  
  
"I dunno," he repeated dully, "I guess part of me thought we'd be more on equal footing out here." At my puzzled glance, he continued, "I'd lived in Milwaukee all my life, and Laverne's lived there since she was six. It was always the same with us. She was the real popular girl who had guys around her, and I was the kid who's Mom ran off when he was nine and whose teachers had to give him lunch money. Who could blame her for not wanting to be with a loser like me?"  
  
"You're not a loser, Lenny."  
  
"Yes, I am. But I don't always have to be one. I figured," he elaborated as the coffee began to lend some clarity to his gaze, "that California was my chance for a fresh start. No one would know me out here and I could tell people what I wanted to be without them knowing what I've been." He broke off suddenly and asked, "Rhonda, are you okay?"  
  
"Allergies," I replied as I carefully dabbed at my eyes with a Kleenex, "Rhonda's allergic to ragweed." Who would have thought that this odd fellow and I had lived the same awful childhood in two different states?  
  
I looked up at that moment in time to see his blue eyes staring at me intently. He obviously didn't beleive my lie anymore than I believed the one he told at Cowboy Bill's.  
  
"Lenny, you're not alone."  
  
"I know, I live with Squiggy. You've met him. Short guy with a moth collection..."  
  
"That's not what Rhonda means," I interrupted. "This is Los Angeles. Virtually everyone you see on the street is from someplace else. They've all come here to reinvent themselves, to live up to the potential they know they have." I paused, but figured I'd come too far to stop now, "That's why Rhonda came here."  
  
His eyes bugged out. "You're not from Hollywood? But you're so..." his eyes darted maniacally as he pushed his vocabulary to it's limit.  
  
I waited to hear the adjective. Cheap? Heard that one before. Easy? Heard that one to. Phoney? Welcome to L.A., sweetie.  
  
"Gorgeus. We don't have women like you back in Milwaukee," he finished with a certain reverence in his voice.  
  
"Oh, go on!"  
  
"That's about it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Well, that and you always dress so nice, and you know so many important people, and you know how things work around here. Burbank ain't nothing like Milwaukee, that's for sure."  
  
"Rhonda only knows those things because she's been here for such a long time...y'know, a couple of years," I amended quickly. Never give anyone a definite time period and they'll never figure out your real age. One of Rhonda's most ironclad rules.  
  
"Nah," he argued, "you may not be from here, but you belong here. I'm just wondering who I'm trying to fool anymore, Laverne or myself." He sighed heavily as he plopped onto my couch, "I'm just the same loser in a new location."  
  
"Quit calling yourself a loser! Rhonda is getting very tired of that word. Look," I said as I sat down next to him and patted his shoulder, "you've only been here three months. It takes time to acclimate, to find your way. You just need to show a little patience, Lenny."  
  
Lenny groaned as he leapt to his feet and began pacing in front of my couch, his arms swinging in jerky, agitated motions. "It ain't about being patient no more!" He caught my warning glare and softened his voice slightly. "I turned twenty seven today. You know what my Pop had by the time he was twenty seven?" I shook my head, and he continued, "A wife, two kids, and a job at a lugging tubs of cod around a fish cannery which was the best he could do since he couldn't speak English too good."  
  
He looked at me with those intense blue eyes. Like I should know what he was talking about.  
  
"Don't you get it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I've had so many more chances to make my life better than his was. I graduated high school, I had a good union job at Shotz Beer, I didn't have to make my home in a strange country when I was fifteen and didn't know the language. What have I done with it?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration as he sat back down on my couch. "I don't got a job, Squignoski Ice Cream and Talent is not taking off like Squiggy and I thought it would, the girl of my dreams is off with some guy who could beat me to a pulp by looking at me, I can't even get a lousy truck driving job here 'cause I'm not part of the California Teamster's union, and to top it all off, I'm a twenty seven year old vir--"  
  
He shut his mouth quickly and became extraordinarily interested in my slipcovers at that point.  
  
His self pity fest was starting to wear on my nerves. "Lenny," I said in my best authoritative voice, y'know like the one I used in that episode of "Route 66" when I played a policewoman who fell in love with Todd after I arrested him? Anyhow, "Lenny," I said, "you idiot. It still all boils down to one thing."  
  
"Dental hygeine?"  
  
"No, you moron!" I said, ignoring his flinch, "Patience. You need to give Squignoski Talent more than three months." I can't believe I said that with a straight face. "While you're waiting for the talent part of the business to take off, why don't you concentrate on the other part." The look he gave me reminded me of our old dog, Shep right down to the glassy stare he had on his face right before he crossed the road in front of our house for the last time and went to doggy heaven, courtesy of an eighteen- wheeler.  
  
"The ice cream part," I prodded.  
  
"Ah."  
  
"If you're so excited to go back to driving a truck, you can always head back to Milwaukee."  
  
"Nah," he said shaking his head.  
  
"Rhonda didn't think you'd like that option. As for the Laverne part of your equation, once again I suggest patience."  
  
His face fell. "Nah, she's with Sonny now. What do I got to offer her? It would be like her deciding to eat Hamburger Helper after she just enjoyed a big, juicy steak. Y'know the type, with a baked potatoe on the side with butter AND sour cream, and the little green leafy stuff they put on the meat--"  
  
"Lenny, Rhonda gets it." And please shut up about food. Some of us are no longer allowed to eat, I thought as I guiltily remembered the piece of cake.  
  
As his earlier mopiness seemed to reassert it's self, I threw caution to the wind and blurted, "Laverne and Sonny aren't going to be together very long. That's where the patience comes in."  
  
His face brightened momentarily, then relaxed into a miserable expression that I was afraid would turn permanent. "You're just saying that to be nice."  
  
"Really? Take it from someone who's been where Laverne is now, Rhonda predicts they will be over in two months."  
  
He was on his feet in a flash and moving to the door. "He's just using her? I'll pound him, or die trying. Maybe both!"  
  
"Lenny! It's not like that," I said as I pulled him back gently to the couch. "It's not quite like that. Sonny has a lot of terrific qualities. Unfortunately, you can't count a decent attention span and depth among them. Rhonda's sure he's told her he loved her, and meant it at the time. Sonny just doesn't...hold onto things for very long," I said, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Naked almost, as I looked at the floor.  
  
When I looked up, he was staring at me. The anger on his face had been replaced by something else. Compassion? Pity? For me?  
  
"You said you've been where Laverne is now? So you and Sonny were--"  
  
"Yes," I said, as I blushed at his directness.  
  
Compassion was soon replaced by befuddlement as he blurted, "How can you-- I mean you two seem--it's sort of like you're friends, or something?"  
  
"Rhonda and Sonny are friends," I said gently, knowing better than to bring up the "with benefits" clarification. "Rhonda met Sonny when she first moved into the building. He was kind, much kinder than most people are around here. We enjoyed being together, we had a lot in common careerwise. It was a lot of fun," I said, as an unwanted tone of wistfullness entered my voice.  
  
"Then you got dumped," he said flatly, his blue eye searching mine once again for signs of deception.  
  
"Yes. Soon afterwards, Sonny took up with Daphne, an aspiring dancer who used to live in your apartment. Two months later, he was with Brenda. After that, Valerie."  
  
"Yet, you two are still friends?"  
  
I allowed myself a quick smile. "Believe it or not, yes. Sonny's covered for Rhonda with the landlord a few times, back during the leaner times, when Rhonda couldn't make her rent. He once threw a casting director out of Rhonda's apartment when he heard her screaming. He brought dinner every night for nearly a week when Rhonda had the flu last fall. He's a good guy, and a great friend," I said as I squeezed his arm reassuringly, "he's just no good as a boyfriend."  
  
He sneered before looking down at my hand and patting it. "All these years, Laverne's been telling me I'm her best guy friend. I guess Sonny will end up with that job, too?"  
  
"Don't be that way," I chided him. "Laverne doesn't look like the type that would throw away a lifelong friend." How else would anyone explain Squiggy's presence in this merry bunch of misfits?  
  
"I still don't feel right, not going over there, and y'know, defending her honor and all?"  
  
Personally, I thought Laverne's honor had been lost long ago, and if not, it was high time she was rid of it. Instead, I said, "Do you really think she's ready to hear that?"  
  
He shook his head, ruefully.  
  
"You'll be there for her when it counts. When she's learned a bit more about life, and perhaps has her priorities in order. Once again," I smiled, "the word is patience."  
  
"What about you?" he asked suddenly. "How does it feel to sit back and watch Sonny go through all of those girls?"  
  
I cocked my head to the side and pondered his question for a moment. "Until now, Rhonda never gave it much thought. It's not like Sonny and Rhonda were ever all that serious about one another."  
  
His loud snort let me know he didn't believe me for an instant.  
  
"He's just a stuntman," I said hastily, "It's all for the best. Rhonda needed to concentrate on men who could help her career, show her the ropes, let her know how Hollywood works."  
  
"Did you learn?"  
  
"Yes," I replied, dully. "Rhonda learned a lot." Too much.  
  
"That sounds so..." Once again, he appeared to grope for the right word.  
  
Mercenary? Predatory?  
  
"Lonely," he finished.  
  
We sat in silence for a few awkward moments.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said.  
  
"Don't be," I said shortly. "You're entitled to your opinion."  
  
"Nah, I wasn't aplogizing for that. I'm just sorry you got hurt."  
  
I opened my mouth to deny it. To let him know that Rhonda Lee of Hollywood was a stronger woman than Effie Staniway of Oklahoma could have ever dreamed of becoming. To let him know that it would take more than a second- rate stuntman to hurt her, wound her pride.  
  
It was funny, my mouth was open, but for once no words were coming out of it.  
  
I managed to whisper out a choked, "Thanks," as I felt the tear trickle down my cheek. A split second later, I was all but crushed in a tight embrace. For the first time since sixth grade, I was actually being held by a guy who wanted to comfort me, not to cop a feel.  
  
It felt wonderful.  
  
Nothing wonderful stays that way, however. In under a minute, I could tell that Lenny, or at least part of his anatomy's priority had shifted. I waited, curious to see what sort of ridiculous come on he would try, curious to see where his hands would "accidently" brush against me.  
  
Once again, he surprised me. The rest of his body stiffened as much as his lower parts, and he awkwardly pulled himself back. His face was flushed, and once again he stared at my ever-fascinating floor, as he stammered, "I should probably go wait on the stoop. Squiggy'll probably be home in an hour or two."  
  
I let him get as far as the door before I said, "Wait."  
  
He turned and looked at me hesitantly.  
  
"Don't go. You were right earlier when you said my life sounded lonely. It is and Rhonda--I am."  
  
"Rhonda," he said as I rose of the couch and walked over to him, "you know how I feel about Laverne, and I know how you feel about Sonny." His voice had taken on a slight note of panic. I couldn't tell if the sheen of sweat on his face was from fear, excitement, or both.  
  
"Yes, we both know how each other feels. That's good," I purred as I brushed up against him, feeling the last of his resistance crumble, "we won't have any misunderstandings in the morning." He probably had more to say, more reasons why he should run out my front door and pretend none of our conversation had occurred.  
  
Funny how kissing a man can interrupt his train of thought...  
  
*****  
  
For a novice, he wasn't bad. A little overeager on the trigger perhaps, but nothing that he couldn't learn to control by reciting baseball statistics in his head. And the evening had proved without a shadow of a doubt that Lenny could be a very fast learner when properly motivated.  
  
Damn diet pills. I wish I could remember what it was like to not wake up four or five times during the night. However, as I looked at the sleeping face on the pillow next to mine, it's nice to not be alone. I usually didn't let men stay over. I preferred to be at their places, or even a hotel rather than my own home. It kept things from getting too intimate.  
  
Lenny and I would never be together like this again and deep down we both knew it. Tonight was solace, companionship, exercise, and a little sorely needed release--for both of us. I grinned in the darkness at the thought of it all. We had nothing to give each other but a few hours pleasure, some clarity, and self confidence. I'd been with so many men who'd promised me so much more, and wound up not giving me a tenth of what I got from a lovesick, truck-driving, virgin.  
  
Only in Hollywood.  
  
I wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. I settled for gently waking Lenny and giving him his second lesson of the night.  
  
*****  
  
A sudden noise woke me, and I reached instinctively for my phone.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up," he said as he sat on the edge of my bed and pulled on his boot.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
He squinted at the clock on my bureau, "A litte after nine."  
  
"How little?"  
  
"Ten."  
  
"Are you sure you want to leave so early? You didn't get a lot of sleep last night, y'know."  
  
He blushed. There's definitely something almost irresistable about shy men, I reasoned. "I just wanna get home before Squiggy wakes up so I don't have to answer any questions," he mumbled.  
  
"Lenny, you don't have to protect my reputation. I'm a big girl."  
  
"It ain't that," he blurted with pained look on his face, "I didn't think about it last night. Hell, I didn't think much about anything last night while we... Anyhow, I just don't want Squig to know. It would crush him." At my puzzled expression, he continued. "Squiggy really likes you, and I don't think he could handle it if he knew that you and I... well, you know."  
  
"I hate to break it to you, but there's as much of a chance of Squiggy and Rhonda getting together as there is of Sonny Bono becoming a congressman," I said, giggling.  
  
Lenny looked uncharacteristically serious. "I know, but I'd hate to crush his dream. He's been hurt a lot."  
  
"You're a good friend, Lenny. Squiggy's lucky to have you."  
  
"Nah... I'm the lucky one. I've got some good friends. And your one of them."  
  
I smiled as I started to get out of bed and start my day.  
  
"You don't have to walk me out. I promise I won't steal nothing or do nothing disgusting in your underwear drawer."  
  
"Two things I hadn't even considered until this moment. Thanks, Lenny."  
  
"Don't mention it. And, thanks again. For last night, I mean. It meant a lot."  
  
"Remember," I said as I let my eyes wander slowly down his torso for one last indulgent look, "patience in ALL things."  
  
He smirked as I opened the front door for him. He walked out, then turned and walked back. He took my hands in his, and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek. "I really mean it," he whispered, "thanks."  
  
I was watching him walk past the bush in front of my door, when I noticed the damn newspaper guy had left my copy of Variety at the end of my walkway, instead of at my door. Again.  
  
I had walked out, clutching my short pink robe tightly around me and carefully bending down to retrieve my paper when I saw her.  
  
Laverne.  
  
Wearing Sonny's very familiar L.A. Rams jersey. He really needs to retire that jersey, I thought. Talk about one size fitting all...  
  
She too, had come out to catch up on current events, and was watching Lenny walk away from her, oblivious and whistling. I'd never seen her mouth open that long without any sound coming out of it.  
  
Okay, I couldn't resist. "Good morning, Laverne," I trilled out perkily, "sleep well?"  
  
She just glared daggers at me in return. She's going to have a choice pretty soon, I thought, then was momentarily saddened by the knowlege that it would be her choice, not mine.  
  
Forcing a smile, I gave her my best beauty queen wave, then turned and walked back into my apartment.  
  
Alone.  
  
FIN 


End file.
